Page 61 of City of Wind and Lies

"I'm anything but sweet,” I chuckle.

"To me you are."

"You're forever the exception."

That same soft blush tints her skin, and for a second, I think I might like this more than the fully flushed and heavy-lidded look she wears after she shatters from pleasure. No, that one is still my favorite.

"What's yours?" I ask, tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it in the oil before taking a bite.

"I don't have one." Wren's eyes dull as she slowly blinks them shut, and when they open, the shadows that veiled them are gone just as quickly as they came. "I know my name's Wren. I was old enough to tell the police that, but James was assigned by a social worker." She shrugs a shoulder. "I guess a middle name was just not something she had the energy for that day."

My tongue feels heavy in my mouth as I try to craft a response. She's previously mentioned being in foster care, and it's not a topic I felt like broaching because anytime I see the shimmer of dejection in her eyes, it fucking guts me.

"Wren," I start.

She releases a heavy sigh, wiping her hands with her napkin. "If the next words out of your mouth involve anything even remotely reminiscent of 'sorry', I will throat-punch you."

"All right, all right," I suppress a laugh, lifting my hands in surrender. "We won't talk about it."

"It's not that I mind talking about it, but I hate being pitied for it." She rolls the stem of the water glass between her fingers as she gets lost in her thoughts for a moment. "I spent years coming to terms with it. I'd like to think that my parents didn't choose to leave me. As morbid as it sounds, I hope they're dead. Because that reality is a lot easier to grasp than the thought of them living a life without me."

I swallow roughly. "Wren-"

She grabs the butter knife and twirls it around to point at me. "Don't make me upgrade from punching to stabbing, Bowie Lorenzo."

Cazzo.

I'm sure she means to be threatening to some degree here, but all she's doing is making me want to bend her over the fucking table.

"My mother is the only one that's ever called me that," I say, darting a hand across the table. My fingers circle her wrist, squeezing just hard enough to take control and bend it back. Directing her hand, I drag the blunt tip of the knife across her pouty bottom lip. "But it sounds so much better coming from your pretty little mouth."

Her lips part in a silent gasp, the surprise in her features morphing quickly to lust as I lower our hands to the table. She releases the knife, sliding her hand on top of mine and softly tracing the outlines of my tattoos. Her touch is soft, gentle even, but each little stroke ignites the fire burning in my veins for her.

"You said they lived out in Northbrook? Your parents, right?"

"And my little sister, yes."

"I always wanted a sibling," she says absentmindedly as she nods her head.

Gripping her fingers, I bring her hand to my mouth and place a kiss on the back of it. "I can't give you siblings, but we can make sure that our little guy has a whole lot of them."

"That's rather presumptuous of you," she says with a smirk. "What makes you think that I want more kids after this one?"

I cock an eyebrow at her.

She folds her arms across her chest, deepening her cleavage as she lifts a brow of her own at me.

I love her little acts of defiance. This is why she's so different, never letting me have full control. Not even in sex. She always manages to get exactly what she wants, even if it's by submitting to me.

The corner of her mouth tugs up and she rolls her eyes. "Fine, you're right. I do want more, a few actually."

I chuckle, "Oh passerotta, I don't know if I could stop at a few." Scooting my chair closer to hers, I guide her hand beneath the table to the front of my slacks. "Feel that?" I question, her eyes round as her palm comes to rest on my thickening cock. "That's what the thought of you always stuffed full of my cum, belly growing with my baby -our baby- does to me."

Shifting in her seat, she squeezes her thighs together. I lean over, nip at her earlobe with my teeth, and lower my voice. "That turns you on, doesn't it?" Her throat bobs with a swallow as I continue. "You want me to fuck you raw, fill that pretty pussy of yours so full of my cum that it’ll leak down your thighs? But, I'll fuck every last drop back inside you and keep you pregnant more often than not."

I press a kiss to her temple, slipping her hand back to her lap and sliding my chair back over.

Releasing a shuddered breath, Wren reaches out for her water glass. I watch in amusement as she takes a long, slow sip before her half-lidded eyes look up to meet mine.

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